Lanen, realising for the first time that I must dwell entirely apart from her, turned stricken eyes up to me. "Akor, what— damn, I thought you'd be nearby at least—" Her eyes filled with tears, which she dashed impatiendy away. Her raging emotions, over which she had no control, made her furious.

"Do not be concerned, my heart," I replied. "We are but new-come here. There will be plenty of time for change." I grinned. "And possibly for building. Lady Maran, have you thought of a place nearby where I might rest, or shall I seek shelter in the Trollingwood?"

Maran met my gaze and replied, sadly, "For now, Akor, I fear it must be the Trollingwood. I have ploughed my brains for days, and I can think of nowhere large enough for you to stay. Forgive me."

"There is nothing to forgive," I replied, doing my best to keep the sorrow from my voice. "I will see what may be done. You are certain that none claim land in the Trollingwood?"

"Certain sure," said Maran, grinning. "It's said to be far too dangerous in there."

"How clear-sighted of people, to know in advance that I was coming to dwell therein," I said lightly. I leaned down and came within Lanen's reach. "I am ever here, dearling," I said in true-speech as she laid her hand gently upon my faceplate. "No more than a thought away. And if it may be done, perhaps we will make the smithy courtyard more worthy of the Kantri." Aloud I added, "If you all will meet me at the edge of the wood tomorrow at dawn, I will guide you to whatever chambers I have been able to find."

By the next morning, I was pleased to show them my new dwelling. It was but a short distance from the eaves of the wood. I had found a cave nearly large enough to fit into, and there was a good clear stream not far away. With some effort on my part, it would be a comfortable enough place to dwell. I also asked Maran, who said that no other owned the land round about her house, and I was welcome to enlarge her courtyard to my heart's content if I would do the work of laying the stone floors and building walls.

I took it as a challenge.

It was the oddest feeling I have ever known, walking into Be-skin. I had never been there before, but—how shall I explain it? It began with the scent of the Trollingwood, whose western edge lay near my old home in Ilsa. I knew that smell and it was the same here, only wilder somehow. The air was fresh and sharp with the scents of pine and balsam, the ground was rich, the hills felt like old friends. I walked into Beskin and felt that I had come home, to a place I had never seen. It was very strange, but oddly reassuring.

Maran's house was huge. Her grandfather had built il with Ills sons, and there was room and to spare for all of us. The rooms were sparsely furnished, the furniture well made and lovely in its simplicity. One of Maran's brothers, Harald—Goddess, how odd, to have uncles and aunts!—Uncle Harald is a woodworker, and made all the furnishings in the house himself.

Maran gave me a room to myself on the upper floor, a large airy room looking to the hills, with plenty of space for the children when they came. She slept across the hall, near enough for a hail but far enough for privacy. Vilkas had the third bedroom on that floor to himself.

Maran and I settled in quickly enough, but Vilkas was like a butterfly that could not light upon a single bloom. After a few days, when he was certain that I was well enough and would keep, he went off on his own into the country round, a travelling Healer. During our first three months there, as spring gave way gradually to summer, he would disappear for weeks at a time, turning up suddenly of a morning with a scrip full of silver, looking a little more weather-beaten each time and a little more at peace with himself. He would give me relaxing herbs, examine me closely, make sure the babes were thriving, exhort me to eat more meat, and disappear again.

I managed to sit about the house resting, as ordered, for all of a week. The next morning I was up before Maran, making the porridge and starting the bread. She scowled at me for not following Vilkas's orders for exacdy three breaths, then she grinned at me. "Bored, are you?" she asked.

"Put me to work," I begged. "Quick, before I get too big to do anything at all."

She laughed and led me to the forge, where she provided me with an ancient, scarred leather apron and a thick leather jerkin. I started like the rawest apprentice, working the bellows, but over the days and weeks she taught me how to stoke the fire, the smell and look and sound of iron when it is ready for the hammer, and one memorable day she handed me her second-best hammer and let me get on with trying to shape metal.

I have never known anything like it. I'd never done the like before, but I had watched Maran close for some time by then, and the movements just seemed—natural. The hammer seemed to fit my hand, the iron turned sweetly for me. My mothers eyes gleamed with pride. "By the Goddess, my girl, you've the making of a fine smith in you!" she declared.

"Oh, is that what they are?" I said, looking down at my bulge in surprise. She had a grand laugh, my mother, one that started at her toes and took her over entire when she was really amused. Impossible to resist.

When I came near to the start of the seventh month of my pregnancy, however, Vilkas returned and declared that his wandering was over for now.

"I've almost two months yet before anything exciting is due to happen, surely?" I said, panting a little. I was finding it harder to breathe, and Maran had banned me from the forge the week before, for her own safety as well as mine.

"You never know with twins," replied Vilkas, trying to keep a straight face but failing miserably.

"And how many twins have you delivered, O Great Dragon Mage?" I asked, teasing.

"Only one set, and that was at Verfaren," he replied, suddenly serious. "Lanen, now that you mention it, I would like your permission to bring in a colleague to assist me. Her experience with midwifery is much greater than mine." He grinned a little ruefully. "She is also less likely to terrify an expectant mother, though I'd hope you would be used to me by now."

I took advantage of my state to surprise young Vilkas and hugged him tight. "You dear idiot," I said, releasing him. "I'm married to the largest dragon in all the world, and you think I'd be afraid of you?"

He laughed rather well, all in all. "Still, I would like to call her in for the birth," he said, "and perhaps a few weeks before. Twins can come early." He looked about him. "If your mother wouldn't mind, I expect she'd appreciate a place to stay as well."

I laughed. "What's one more in this barn? Do what you need to, Vil. I trust you," I said.

I should have known, really. Idai arrived a week later, bearing Aral and Will and followed closely by Salera. Vil had gone to Akor, asked him to bespeak Idai and beg her to find Aral. There was a grand reunion, and the house was full.

I was quietly delighted that Will had come with Aral as a matter of course. They had progressed so far as to occasionally hold hands publicly. It was clear to all the rest of us that it only a matter of time. Aral was more contented than I had seen her, and Will stood at least a handspan taller, bless his good soul.

When the new arrivals sought their beds, I stepped out into the long twilight of the northern summer to walk Akor back to his chambers. He had been labouring on Maran's courtyard, but it was slow work, and not kind to the clumsy hands that attempted it. As we passed the latest disaster of a stone wall I smiled. "Perhaps we can find a stonemason who will trade his skill for raw lifting power," I suggested. It made Akor hiss with amusement, and for that I was grateful.